


High Voltage

by keep_me_alone



Series: Batfamily Ficlets [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting, Bat Family, Blood, Fist Fights, Humor, I wrote this on my phone at work so sorry if the formatting is weird, Idk what to tell you lmao, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: Did you ever get babysat by your siblings as a kid? And shit would happen and you'd have to make that phone call to your parent like mom please come home everything is Bad and I'm not an adult. This fic is like... that phone call.





	High Voltage

"Hi Bruce," Jason sounded cheerful when Bruce picked up the phone. Then someone screamed in the background.  

"Son of a bitch! The little bastard _bit_  me!"

  
"Please come to the basement your hellspawn is having a tantrum." There was a clatter, another yell and a loud whump before the line went dead. Bruce turned around.  
The board members had a range of expressions from outright horror to barely contained laughter.

"Excuse me," said Bruce pleasantly, "It seems I have a situation at home."

* * *

  
Alfred was standing by the door with a cup of tea when Bruce arrived.

"What's the situation?" Bruce asked him.

"As it is my designated break for afternoon tea, I am uncertain," Alfred told him stiffly, taking a sip. "However I believe it is related to highly caffinated drinks and Master Jason allowing Master Damian to play a game called 'Call of Duty' for several hours." He said the words like he'd never heard them before. Bruce groaned. Although Alfred wasn't visibly upset, he was clearly in a mood. Alfred rarely took Official breaks, and never when there was an ongoing situation. Bruce suspected he had had something to say about Jason's babysitting and that Jason had ignored him.

"Thanks Al. I'll take care of it."

"Indeed."

* * *

  
The Batcave was in disarray. Immidiately, Bruce made a firm mental note that Jason was never babysitting again. The Batcomputer's very large, very expensive screens had been smashed and in the midst of the broken glass, his children were fighting wildly. Tim was using both hands to fend off Damian who had a fist wrapped in his hair. Jason was holding the wildly kicking Damian off the ground with one arm, the other wrestling with him for control of a gun. They were all screaming at each other and for a moment, Bruce was almost stunned. Light flashed off the gun and he stalked up behind them, grabbed Damian's wrist, squeezing it until he dropped the pistol. Bruce cleared the gun and threw it across the room, where it dropped off a ledge and into the lake below. No greal loss there, he thought. When he turned back, Jason had got both arms around Damian, promptly fell to the floor with him, and sat on him.

"You are a terrible babysitter," Bruce told him.

"What do you mean?" Asked Jason, grinning as blood dripped from a cut above his eye. He gestured to the kid below him, "I think I'm doing a fantastic job." He snickered at his own joke. Bruce ignored him.

"Damian, are you calm? Can Jason let you up."

"Yes," Jason stood, and Damian immediately made a grab for his gun. Bruce held him by the collar.

"Father, let me _go._ I must go fight the terrorists."

Jason huffed, "Damian I _told_  you it was all militarized propeganda. Chill."

"We have enough on our hands in Gotham without worrying about the rest of the country," Bruce told his son, "Let Superman handle the terrorists." He slowly relaxed his grip on Damian. "Now someone tell me what happened. Tim?" The teenager crossed his arms, looking sullen.

"I don't know," he wiped at the blood streaming from his nose. "I just came down to do some research on the computer and the bastard attacked me."

"Language,"

"He bit me," Tim protested. Bruce scowled.

"Let me see." Tim yanked at the ripped collar of his ruined, bloody shirt. Livid bite marks were visible on Tim's neck, but with the amount of blood from Tim's nose , Bruce couldn't tell whether it had broken the skin or not. "We'll have Alfred take a look at that."

"He deserved it," Damian muttered. "I _told_  him to stop polluting my air with his rank coffee breath."

"Well you smell like energy drinks and literal bat shit," Tim snapped.

"Watch your language. Damian you need to stop trying to murder your brothers. Go calm down in your room for a while. I'll figure out what to do with you later. No more video games without my supervision."

"Not even the Clue Finders?" Jason asked. Bruce glared at him.

"Clue Finders and Call of Duty are both banned from this household. Now y _ou_ are going to put the Batcave back together and you're banned from babysitting, caffeine distribution and patrol. You let an eleven year old take your gun."

"He's literally a master assassin," Jason complained, "he's got sneaky little hands."

"Thank you, Todd," Damian said smugly.

"Shut up, you both owe me a new gun."

"No," Bruce interjected. "But you almost owed me a new son. Anyways, Wayne funds are not to be used on guns. Neither Bruce Wayne or his miscreant children require firearms. We've discussed this." Jason sighed dramatically.

"When I die, then you will see." Bruce rolled his eyes.

"None of you are dying today. Now come on Tim, let's get you patched up." 


End file.
